Just Good Food
Well, Valentine’s Day has passed and also our celebration. Funny how we all feel compelled to note the date somehow. A few years ago Steve and I started including Steve’s mom and sister along on our VD dinners out. We have many opportunities for just the two of us and, if the occasion is about people you love, it seemed appropriate to share it with his mom, who is widowed and elderly, and single sis Therese.
The first year we did that we went to a restaurant associated with a then new hotel in Laguna Beach called The Montage. The hotel is located on an oceanfront bluff and the restaurant, named Studio, is sited so it takes full advantage of the fabulous view. We went for lunch since there seemed no point in going for the view at dinnertime in February when it’s already dark. The food was a prix fixe menu, not my favorite thing, but it was a special time and place so we bought into it. The food was I admit pretty special and with portions just enough without being too much. But, really, it doesn’t matter how the food was, what made that lunch spectacularly memorable was the company. I like to tell people I had lunch with Pierce Brosnan there. Okay, he was seated at the next table having lunch and yes, his wife was there with him, but still-Pierce Brosnan! It made all of our day, or at least the women’s’. I suspect Steve wasn’t quite as elated as we were since he is of the opinion that Pierce was miscast as James Bond. And don’t even get him started on the subject of Pierce’s singing in Mamma Mia – a movie he was dragged to against his will.
This year there were no celebrities. We went to a place called Savannah in Costa Mesa which features sort of a California version of southern style cooking- think buttermilk fried chicken and the like. Given the state of the economy, I wouldn’t have been surprised to see it empty but it was pretty busy, even with a 5:30 p.m. reservation which we do when taking mom out since her hearing isn’t what it used to be. Unfortunately, even though they advertised a regular menu it was not. Yes, some of the selections were there from the regular menu, but not all- deceptive, I thought. Nonetheless we managed to have a really good meal, once we got past the disappointment of having limited choices. And, then there were the brilliant desserts, two of which we selected to share. Chocolate soufflé and crème brulee rate high on the happiness meter with just about everyone.
But, if any compensation was needed I received it the next evening. We stayed home and Steve made one of his specialties, Baked Penne. There is a longer name for it but we always just call it baked penne for obvious reasons. This is one of those dishes that always surprises just a little bit, it’s so good. And, like so many good recipes, it becomes so much more than the sum of its parts. And all its parts are excellent, in my opinion. Even though some years ago one of our dinner guests meticulously picked out all the Kalmata olives and pushed them to one side of his plate, which we discovered when we cleaned up later. I mean, what adult man picks out all the olives from his pasta?
This is a dish I love. It’s rich and not so rich. It’s a satisfying sort of Mac n' Cheese, but more special. I highly recommend it. And, I’m not saying that just because it’s something that I don’t have to make.
Paired with a nice glass of Pinot Noir, what can I say but “Mamma Mia!”
Baked Penne with Tomatoes, Olives and Two Cheeses
Serves 4-generously.
Ingredients
• 6 tablespoons olive oil
• 1 1/2 cups chopped onion
• 1 teaspoon minced garlic
• 3 28-ounce cans Italian plum tomatoes, drained
• 2 teaspoons dried basil
• 1 1/2 teaspoons dried crushed red pepper
• 2 cups canned low-salt chicken broth
• 1 pound penne or pennette
• 2 1/2 cups packed grated Havarti cheese (16 oz)
• 1/3 cup sliced pitted Kalamata olives
• 1/3 cup grated Parmesan cheese
• 1/4 cup finely chopped fresh basil
Preparation
Heat 3 tablespoons oil in heavy large Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Add onion and garlic; sauté until onion is translucent, about 5 minutes. Mix in tomatoes, dried basil and crushed red pepper. Add broth & bring to boil. Reduce heat to medium; simmer, breaking up tomatoes with back of spoon. Thicken mixture to chunky sauce and is reduced to 6 cups, stirring occasionally, about 1 hour 10 minutes.
Season with salt and pepper.
(Can be made up to 2 days ahead. Cover and chill. Rewarm over low heat before continuing.)
Preheat oven to 375°F. Cook pasta in large pot of boiling salted water until tender but still firm to bite. Drain well. Return pasta to same pot. Toss with 3 tablespoons oil. Pour sauce over and toss to blend. Mix in Havarti cheese. Transfer pasta to 13x9x2-inch glass baking dish.* Sprinkle with olives, then Parmesan.
Bake until pasta is heated through, about 30 minutes. Sprinkle with basil.
*Note:
When making this for two of us, Steve uses two 8" X 8" X 2" glass pans. One to have and one to freeze for later use. The freezer one should not be baked until ready for use.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Valentines Day
Valentine’s Day invariably brings out thoughts of romance and love. These ideas of romance and love are sometimes associated with luscious foods, like chocolate which is thought to have aphrodisiacal qualities. Oysters are sometimes mentioned too, but less so and I suspect the reason is that most people don’t find them as attractive in concept. Local restaurants will suddenly develop a “special menu” which is double the cost and double the amount of food that you normally would have there. Granted, the menus are sometimes inspired and very appealing. But I personally always feel like I would be a sucker for falling for such an obvious marketing tool.
For me, the most romantic dinner in recent memory did not occur at Valentine’s Day at all but was admittedly, a part of a romantic getaway. Steve and I had never been as far south as Cabo San Lucas in Baja California, in spite of living in Southern California, but had heard about it through friends and through advertising. As a warm place a short plane ride away from home it seemed just right for a three day weekend.
The plane ride was easy but when we got to our destination airport we found that from there we still had to take a shuttle for another 1 ½ hours before arriving to our hotel. The roads were narrow and in some places precariously placed on mountain sides so it made for a longer-feeling ride than it probably was. We could see new and beautifully landscaped condominiums and hotels along the way, fronting onto drop-dead water views; all very large and glitzy looking. We finally arrived at our hotel, which was similarly placed, and also large and imposing. After getting settled in, we went out to explore.
We are walkers, feeling that walking is the best way to get familiar with a new place, and so we set out on foot. It was an inauspicious beginning for what we had anticipated being a relaxed and lovely vacation. Most of the streets were not paved, and were dry and dusty. Other than at the hotels, for the most part there were not the plants and landscaping that is so ubiquitous in private and public places we were used to up north.
But we continued on, determined to see what there was to see. The little town consisted of just a few blocks which we covered quickly. There was a main street that had some restaurants, the most prominent of which were American in origin and had a “chain” feel to them. There were also some local places that looked a little too “native” for our comfort level, being a little dustier and more cluttered. Additionally, there were small jewelry and craft stores with some very beautiful and reasonably priced objects and art. With the warm weather, we felt a need for a light snack and on a street corner found just the perfect thing. Fresh fruit in juicy and colorful piles, either juiced to your order, or cut up and put into small take-away paper cone container. Mango, papaya, pineapple, melon and berries, all fresh, sweet and prepared when ordered. The flavors were grand and I have never encountered anything quite like that anywhere else.
After spending time finding our way around and being a little disappointed at the dreariness of our surroundings, we went back to the hotel to recoup. The hotel was placed to take full advantage of the view of the sea, and had two luxurious swimming pools facing that way as well. The weather was warm, so hanging out by the pool was an easy way to spend time.
That evening, we cleaned up and prepared to go off on a walk on the beachfront by our hotel, where we had spotted what looked like a couple of casual restaurants. We stepped down onto the sand from the patio of the hotel and commenced to walk in the direction that seemed to have the most activity.
There were in fact several places along the way, some associated with our or other hotels. The one that caught our fancy though, had nothing of the formality of the hotels.
It was placed right on the sand, and was loosely constructed with palm fronds overhanging the roof, reminiscent of Hawaii. The first area we entered held a small bar and some tables and from there it was possible to see a patio beyond which extended almost to the water’s edge. We looked at the menu, agreed it had promise and were seated.. We noticed a bit of bustling around, and had seen some men in costume which we took to be a group of Mariachis. We asked our waiter what was going on. He was very conversational and informed us that that night was the owner’s birthday and there was going to be a party for him. We were welcome to stay but it might be quite noisy and not what we might have expected. We thought it sounded fun, so we stayed.
It turned out to be a good decision. The wine they served was a local Baja wine, quite acceptable even to our California palates. We had a glass or two and listened to the musicians playing for the party. In time we ordered our meal, which was not clichéd Mexican food. It was, as might be expected in a waterfront town, seafood. In this case, freshly caught lobster and shrimp, grilled in butter to perfection, and served simply with rice and accompanied by fresh tomato salsa. The servings were generous but the food so delicious we were unable to exercise any portion control. We just ate and ate and drank the lovely wine. And as if we had ordered it especially, the background sound consisted of the gentle lapping of the nearby surf with the music offering the counterpoint.
When the birthday party began winding down, the musicians, who had apparently been booked for the evening, came to us and asked if we had any musical requests. We were able to come up with a couple of Spanish language songs we were familiar with like Cielito Lindo and Paloma, which they knew and were able to play with style and enthusiasm.
As the guests left, the host, who was the owner and the birthday person, came by our table and we wished him a happy birthday. He was obviously in an expansive mood, stopping to chat; he treated us to a couple of after-dinner brandies, which he was also having. He seemed gratified that we would know some words in Spanish although his slightly accented English was flawless.
After that we pretty much had the place to ourselves and finished off our after-dinner drinks while basking the glow of the evening, the amazing food and the serene surf sounds. The evening ended with an easy walk along the beach back to our hotel just a short distance away. The restaurant, the evening and the food were all so memorable that I would hesitate to attempt to recreate the event. Some things should be regarded as once in a lifetime experiences.
Valentine’s Day invariably brings out thoughts of romance and love. These ideas of romance and love are sometimes associated with luscious foods, like chocolate which is thought to have aphrodisiacal qualities. Oysters are sometimes mentioned too, but less so and I suspect the reason is that most people don’t find them as attractive in concept. Local restaurants will suddenly develop a “special menu” which is double the cost and double the amount of food that you normally would have there. Granted, the menus are sometimes inspired and very appealing. But I personally always feel like I would be a sucker for falling for such an obvious marketing tool.
For me, the most romantic dinner in recent memory did not occur at Valentine’s Day at all but was admittedly, a part of a romantic getaway. Steve and I had never been as far south as Cabo San Lucas in Baja California, in spite of living in Southern California, but had heard about it through friends and through advertising. As a warm place a short plane ride away from home it seemed just right for a three day weekend.
The plane ride was easy but when we got to our destination airport we found that from there we still had to take a shuttle for another 1 ½ hours before arriving to our hotel. The roads were narrow and in some places precariously placed on mountain sides so it made for a longer-feeling ride than it probably was. We could see new and beautifully landscaped condominiums and hotels along the way, fronting onto drop-dead water views; all very large and glitzy looking. We finally arrived at our hotel, which was similarly placed, and also large and imposing. After getting settled in, we went out to explore.
We are walkers, feeling that walking is the best way to get familiar with a new place, and so we set out on foot. It was an inauspicious beginning for what we had anticipated being a relaxed and lovely vacation. Most of the streets were not paved, and were dry and dusty. Other than at the hotels, for the most part there were not the plants and landscaping that is so ubiquitous in private and public places we were used to up north.
But we continued on, determined to see what there was to see. The little town consisted of just a few blocks which we covered quickly. There was a main street that had some restaurants, the most prominent of which were American in origin and had a “chain” feel to them. There were also some local places that looked a little too “native” for our comfort level, being a little dustier and more cluttered. Additionally, there were small jewelry and craft stores with some very beautiful and reasonably priced objects and art. With the warm weather, we felt a need for a light snack and on a street corner found just the perfect thing. Fresh fruit in juicy and colorful piles, either juiced to your order, or cut up and put into small take-away paper cone container. Mango, papaya, pineapple, melon and berries, all fresh, sweet and prepared when ordered. The flavors were grand and I have never encountered anything quite like that anywhere else.
After spending time finding our way around and being a little disappointed at the dreariness of our surroundings, we went back to the hotel to recoup. The hotel was placed to take full advantage of the view of the sea, and had two luxurious swimming pools facing that way as well. The weather was warm, so hanging out by the pool was an easy way to spend time.
That evening, we cleaned up and prepared to go off on a walk on the beachfront by our hotel, where we had spotted what looked like a couple of casual restaurants. We stepped down onto the sand from the patio of the hotel and commenced to walk in the direction that seemed to have the most activity.
There were in fact several places along the way, some associated with our or other hotels. The one that caught our fancy though, had nothing of the formality of the hotels.
It was placed right on the sand, and was loosely constructed with palm fronds overhanging the roof, reminiscent of Hawaii. The first area we entered held a small bar and some tables and from there it was possible to see a patio beyond which extended almost to the water’s edge. We looked at the menu, agreed it had promise and were seated.. We noticed a bit of bustling around, and had seen some men in costume which we took to be a group of Mariachis. We asked our waiter what was going on. He was very conversational and informed us that that night was the owner’s birthday and there was going to be a party for him. We were welcome to stay but it might be quite noisy and not what we might have expected. We thought it sounded fun, so we stayed.
It turned out to be a good decision. The wine they served was a local Baja wine, quite acceptable even to our California palates. We had a glass or two and listened to the musicians playing for the party. In time we ordered our meal, which was not clichéd Mexican food. It was, as might be expected in a waterfront town, seafood. In this case, freshly caught lobster and shrimp, grilled in butter to perfection, and served simply with rice and accompanied by fresh tomato salsa. The servings were generous but the food so delicious we were unable to exercise any portion control. We just ate and ate and drank the lovely wine. And as if we had ordered it especially, the background sound consisted of the gentle lapping of the nearby surf with the music offering the counterpoint.
When the birthday party began winding down, the musicians, who had apparently been booked for the evening, came to us and asked if we had any musical requests. We were able to come up with a couple of Spanish language songs we were familiar with like Cielito Lindo and Paloma, which they knew and were able to play with style and enthusiasm.
As the guests left, the host, who was the owner and the birthday person, came by our table and we wished him a happy birthday. He was obviously in an expansive mood, stopping to chat; he treated us to a couple of after-dinner brandies, which he was also having. He seemed gratified that we would know some words in Spanish although his slightly accented English was flawless.
After that we pretty much had the place to ourselves and finished off our after-dinner drinks while basking the glow of the evening, the amazing food and the serene surf sounds. The evening ended with an easy walk along the beach back to our hotel just a short distance away. The restaurant, the evening and the food were all so memorable that I would hesitate to attempt to recreate the event. Some things should be regarded as once in a lifetime experiences.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Fueling Philosophy
The other day I read in my local paper about an enterprising woman who has started a cottage industry with bottled water. Knowing that huge corporations pretty much have that market segment sewed up you wouldn’t think anyone would venture into it on a small scale but apparently this isn’t actually just water - this is inspiration!The idea is that inspiring words like joy, peace and harmony are part of the name on the water bottle. Presumably then when you drink it you feel joyful, peaceful or harmonious.
Is it that easy? Is consuming things with pretty names the way to The Way?
By this example it would appear to be the case. Consumers of the water swore by it, saying they felt more...whatever the message on the bottle called for.
A few months ago on a visit to daughter Bonnie I had a related experience, only with food. This is nothing new of course. Over the years Bonnie has frequently introduced me to new places which include new food experiences. A few years ago, Graduate school took her to Berkeley, home of famous chef Alice Waters, who has gained fame for her fresh, local-food approach to cooking. The area in Berkeley in which Waters’ much-lauded Chez Panisse restaurant is located is known as the “gourmet ghetto”. This locale is several blocks long and is dotted with wonderful places to eat in and/or take out: pizza which sets a benchmark to which the likes of even upscale California Pizza Kitchen could never aspire; cheeses from small local cheese makers and dairies; bakeries with breads and pastries unique, beautiful and tasty. Great coffee, or tea. All the multi-cultural and just plain great food experiences available are too vast to list. Suffice it to say, whatever you may want or are looking for, it will be available there.So many great places and people in the Bay area seem to take them for granted. It’s only we visitors who gawk in wonder and delight. However even someone like me who is interested in such experiences can, at times, be dumbfounded by the occurence. On that visit, Bonnie thought that our group, which consisted of partner Jeff, daughter Nicole and me, should visit the latest food phenomenon to arrive at the gourmet ghetto. So after a lovely lunch of goat cheese/wild mushroom crostinis and soup, from a place whimsically spelled SOOP, we walked on down the street for some dessert.
The destination was a restaurant named Café Gratitude. Their self-declared intention is, and I quote. “We invite you to step inside and enjoy being someone who chooses; loving your life, adoring yourself, accepting the world, being generous and grateful everyday, and experiencing being provided for.” Call me judgmental but right away I knew this was not a place for the Claim Jumper crowd.
I am - Befuddled. The whole concept behind the food at Café Gratitude is that of “live food” that is to say, it is uncooked, or only heated to 115 degrees, and is organic and vegan.
I am - Uneducated. How do you have food, beyond the obvious like salads, uncooked? Ingeniously though, they did have a menu that covered a spectrum including pizzas, burgers and Mexican and other ethnic dishes, to name only a few.
I am - Amused. But as if the vegan, “live” food concept wasn’t enough departure from the usual café experience, the folks at Café Gratitude took it just a step further. Every menu selection has its own name, each one starting with “I Am”, as in I Am Accepting - stir-fry consisting of steamed Bhutanese red rice tossed with marinated raw vegetables, shitake mushrooms, pine nuts, teriyaki almonds and scallions. Or, I Am Cheerful - live sun burger which was sprouted pumpkin seed and walnut burger served on a buckwheat-sunflower flatbread with sliced tomato, onion, smoky tomato sauce, cucumber pickles and sprouts. Our group found it impossible not to make fun, although we may have been the only people in there who didn’t take it seriously.
I am - Under whelmed. We decided on and ordered three desserts by their description, only to have the server call out the order by each one's given name, to our great amusement. What was described as a mudslide pie (raw chocolate crust filled with a creamy raw chocolate and almond butter filling, rippled with cashew whipped cream, was named “I am Heavenly” as in “oh you want, I am Heavenly”. A cheesecake style concoction was called I Am Cherished and a layered cake which was described as strawberry shortcake was called I Am Rapture. Rapture, by the way, was two layers of some substance that looked and felt more like a pumpkin pie, but unfortunately didn’t taste like it. It was layered with yes, sliced live strawberries, or what are more commonly known as fresh strawberries. I don’t know why but I still, against all odds, had expected to see my “live” strawberries intersected with spongy white cake and whipped cream.
To say these desserts were not up to expectation would truly be an understatement. I believe the folks at Café Gratitude have failed to grasp the concept of dessert. Dessert is supposed to be rich, succulent, appetizing and even beautiful to behold. The one thing it is not intended to be is good for you. That’s why we call it dessert and not, say, broccoli.
That said,
I am - Fortunate. I am living this life that has given me such singular experiences with the capacity to enjoy them and the ability to depict them in writing. As a Chinese philosopher once observed, “when you write things down you live them twice”.
While the concept of a live food restaurant has no real relevance in my life, I understand that is not true for some others. Therefore, I am grateful – again. Café Gratitude, with its interestingly named dishes, karma, philosophies, and approach is worth revisiting, at least anecdotally.
The other day I read in my local paper about an enterprising woman who has started a cottage industry with bottled water. Knowing that huge corporations pretty much have that market segment sewed up you wouldn’t think anyone would venture into it on a small scale but apparently this isn’t actually just water - this is inspiration!The idea is that inspiring words like joy, peace and harmony are part of the name on the water bottle. Presumably then when you drink it you feel joyful, peaceful or harmonious.
Is it that easy? Is consuming things with pretty names the way to The Way?
By this example it would appear to be the case. Consumers of the water swore by it, saying they felt more...whatever the message on the bottle called for.
A few months ago on a visit to daughter Bonnie I had a related experience, only with food. This is nothing new of course. Over the years Bonnie has frequently introduced me to new places which include new food experiences. A few years ago, Graduate school took her to Berkeley, home of famous chef Alice Waters, who has gained fame for her fresh, local-food approach to cooking. The area in Berkeley in which Waters’ much-lauded Chez Panisse restaurant is located is known as the “gourmet ghetto”. This locale is several blocks long and is dotted with wonderful places to eat in and/or take out: pizza which sets a benchmark to which the likes of even upscale California Pizza Kitchen could never aspire; cheeses from small local cheese makers and dairies; bakeries with breads and pastries unique, beautiful and tasty. Great coffee, or tea. All the multi-cultural and just plain great food experiences available are too vast to list. Suffice it to say, whatever you may want or are looking for, it will be available there.So many great places and people in the Bay area seem to take them for granted. It’s only we visitors who gawk in wonder and delight. However even someone like me who is interested in such experiences can, at times, be dumbfounded by the occurence. On that visit, Bonnie thought that our group, which consisted of partner Jeff, daughter Nicole and me, should visit the latest food phenomenon to arrive at the gourmet ghetto. So after a lovely lunch of goat cheese/wild mushroom crostinis and soup, from a place whimsically spelled SOOP, we walked on down the street for some dessert.
The destination was a restaurant named Café Gratitude. Their self-declared intention is, and I quote. “We invite you to step inside and enjoy being someone who chooses; loving your life, adoring yourself, accepting the world, being generous and grateful everyday, and experiencing being provided for.” Call me judgmental but right away I knew this was not a place for the Claim Jumper crowd.
I am - Befuddled. The whole concept behind the food at Café Gratitude is that of “live food” that is to say, it is uncooked, or only heated to 115 degrees, and is organic and vegan.
I am - Uneducated. How do you have food, beyond the obvious like salads, uncooked? Ingeniously though, they did have a menu that covered a spectrum including pizzas, burgers and Mexican and other ethnic dishes, to name only a few.
I am - Amused. But as if the vegan, “live” food concept wasn’t enough departure from the usual café experience, the folks at Café Gratitude took it just a step further. Every menu selection has its own name, each one starting with “I Am”, as in I Am Accepting - stir-fry consisting of steamed Bhutanese red rice tossed with marinated raw vegetables, shitake mushrooms, pine nuts, teriyaki almonds and scallions. Or, I Am Cheerful - live sun burger which was sprouted pumpkin seed and walnut burger served on a buckwheat-sunflower flatbread with sliced tomato, onion, smoky tomato sauce, cucumber pickles and sprouts. Our group found it impossible not to make fun, although we may have been the only people in there who didn’t take it seriously.
I am - Under whelmed. We decided on and ordered three desserts by their description, only to have the server call out the order by each one's given name, to our great amusement. What was described as a mudslide pie (raw chocolate crust filled with a creamy raw chocolate and almond butter filling, rippled with cashew whipped cream, was named “I am Heavenly” as in “oh you want, I am Heavenly”. A cheesecake style concoction was called I Am Cherished and a layered cake which was described as strawberry shortcake was called I Am Rapture. Rapture, by the way, was two layers of some substance that looked and felt more like a pumpkin pie, but unfortunately didn’t taste like it. It was layered with yes, sliced live strawberries, or what are more commonly known as fresh strawberries. I don’t know why but I still, against all odds, had expected to see my “live” strawberries intersected with spongy white cake and whipped cream.
To say these desserts were not up to expectation would truly be an understatement. I believe the folks at Café Gratitude have failed to grasp the concept of dessert. Dessert is supposed to be rich, succulent, appetizing and even beautiful to behold. The one thing it is not intended to be is good for you. That’s why we call it dessert and not, say, broccoli.
That said,
I am - Fortunate. I am living this life that has given me such singular experiences with the capacity to enjoy them and the ability to depict them in writing. As a Chinese philosopher once observed, “when you write things down you live them twice”.
While the concept of a live food restaurant has no real relevance in my life, I understand that is not true for some others. Therefore, I am grateful – again. Café Gratitude, with its interestingly named dishes, karma, philosophies, and approach is worth revisiting, at least anecdotally.
Monday, January 26, 2009
THE BOOK CLUB
A few years ago we were in the midst of the paperwork for our move to Santa Barbara which necessitated a trip there. After taking care of housing details, we stopped in at a Peets coffee shop for a caffeine renewal before we had to get back on the freeway for the 100 mile drive home southward through LA. We were sitting back discussing the day and enjoying the good coffee and the break, when we noticed a young woman sitiing nearby reading a book we had both recently finished. The book was The House of Sand and Fog by Andre Dubus which was subsequently made into a fascinating movie. We had enjoyed the book and since in both our opinions it was the sort of story that elicited a lot of emotions in the reader, we were curious to see what she thought of it. She responded by telling us that she had just started it so hadn’t quite formed opinions about it yet. The book was “assigned” reading for that month with her book club. We chatted a little longer, with us telling her a little about the plot without giving it away, and she told us a little about herself. Her name was Jessica and she lived in Santa Barbara, close to the location to which we were moving. She worked at D'Angelo Bakery near the harbor area of the city, which in addition to the working harbor is a big tourist area because of the proximity to the beach and number of hotels there. Since as visitors we had stayed in that area frequently, we were very familiar with the bakery and had often breakfasted there. The quality and selection of the bread and rolls was so delightful that we often also stopped to buy some to take home with us We then told her why we were there that day and she gave me her name and phone number and said when we moved into town I should contact her and perhaps I would be interested in joining her book club.
I had never been a member of a book club but it seemed like a pleasant way to fill time in my new place. What better way to meet people, I reasoned. Having other people select books also had some appeal because I figured that I would have exposure to books I might not read otherwise. It was a few months before we were settled into our new house but shortly after that I contacted Jessica about getting together, which we did. She told me all about the book club; it was comprised of about 12 women who met once a month in the evening at different host houses. The host would provide dinner and refreshments and would choose the book for the next time. She told me what the current book they were reading was The Thirteen Pleasures by Robert Hellenga and invited me to the next gathering to see how I liked it, and presumably, if they liked me.
I found the book at the library and when I read it found it to be intriguing, and something I probably would have overlooked if not for the book club. After finishing it I then looked for more by the same author because I had enjoyed it so much. So now I was prepared for the book club meeting the following month which would be hosted by my new friend, Jessica.
It took me only a few minutes to get to Jessica’s house from mine. Being single, she shared with a couple of roommates, male and female. The house was casual, not particularly decorated but just comfortable. Two sofas were placed around a large low square table which is where put our wine glasses and when we got our dinner, that as well. There was light conversation as members arrived, and I was introduced to each one, promptly forgetting each name of course. However a nice glass of wine and a congenial atmosphere will go a long way towards making anyone relaxed so in no time I was comfortable entering into the conversation as best I could.
The age range was 30 to 60 roughly, with most in the younger edge of the category. Professions ranged from writers to waitresses to therapists to students. All seemed very attractive, fit and interesting and interested. Some were married, some not. Some had children small or grown, some not. The core group had been meeting for a few years so knew a lot of each others history, and it showed in their conversation and ease with each other. Dinner came and was, fortuitously, vegetarian lasagna served with bread so it wasn’t necessary for me to tell anyone I did not eat meat.
After our meal we got to the book club part. It was pretty open-ended with each person giving their opinion of the book in no particular format. With one person it might be a character and another might focus on a particular detail or the setting. As I said, no real format. I found out later that there was a list or agenda of possible discussion topics that was followed by some though obviously not by all. Still it was fun and I got to know some new people so it was successful as far as I was concerned.
I went to more meetings in the next months, all following the same pattern. I got to know more of the women and hear stories about boyfriends, babies, and personal successes. We had a mini-scandal and loss when one of them, Lisa, in my opinion one of the most lovely and accomplished of the group, found that out her husband was sleeping with her best friend. Lisa was a free-lance writer and almost overnight packed up her child and moved to the Bay area where her mother lived, leaving her faithless husband in the lurch.
Each meeting was its own experience since besides different books each was held at a different house each of which, reflecting its owner, had its own individual sense of thought-out style and comfort.. Each one featured that host’s preferred menu which varied from soup to multiple appetizers to pasta, but always a glass of wine. High on the list of my favorite things is wine, bread and books, not necessarily in that order so it was an enjoyable interlude in my life.
The Christmas gathering was held at Diane’s in her small cozy house located down a winding lane near the Santa Barbara foothills. In addition to the more usual Christmas trimming, she and her daughter had decorated with dozens of candles of all types and sizes lit throughout the house, giving the rooms a magical glow. The book we discussed for that particular meeting has faded into memory but I do distinctly remember the meal we had. It was simple and colorful and amazingly delicious, consisting of tureens of bright red chunky, slightly spicy tomato soup, served alongside platters of grilled cheese sandwiches. These were not your Kraft slices on Weber’s bread from your childhood sandwiches. Nope, these were made with fabulous cheeses such as nutty gruyere, smoky provolone and tangy goat cheese, grilled on fresh chunky artisanal country bread. Scattered on the dining table were small bowls of olives of various colors and flavors. It was such a simple but elegant holiday meal that I thought about it for weeks after. I wanted to serve that sometime to my guests and have them enjoy the great flavors and contrast provided with that simplicity. I knew I could do the grilled cheese; there I was only limited by my imagination and availability of good breads and cheeses. What I couldn’t figure out was the tomato soup. What made it so good, so memorable? I asked my hostess for the recipe and with some hesitation she sent it to me via e-mail saying “this is how I made the soup for book club, I think”.
So here is the Book Club Tomato Soup, unabridged the way I make it at least once during the year, ideally during cooler weather. It makes a great winter’s night dinner, accompanied by crusty hot grilled cheese sandwiches to dip into the soup, and a flavorful glass of wine.
No one is ever disappointed by this meal.
Book Club Tomato Soup
1 yellow or sweet onion, chopped fine
1 minced garlic clove
1 tomato, chopped
6 basil leaves, torn
1 28 oz can chopped tomatoes
1 jar marinara sauce – 16 oz.
2 cups vegetable broth
½ tsp marjoram or oregano
½ cup dry white wine
salt and pepper to taste
Caramelize (or slowly cook) the onion approximately 20 minutes then add the minced garlic and sauté another minute or so
Add remaining ingredients except for fresh tomato and cook approximately 45 minutes on med heat adding a little cold water if soup seems too thick
5 minutes before serving, add fresh tomatoes, basil and salt and pepper to taste
6 -8 servings
A few years ago we were in the midst of the paperwork for our move to Santa Barbara which necessitated a trip there. After taking care of housing details, we stopped in at a Peets coffee shop for a caffeine renewal before we had to get back on the freeway for the 100 mile drive home southward through LA. We were sitting back discussing the day and enjoying the good coffee and the break, when we noticed a young woman sitiing nearby reading a book we had both recently finished. The book was The House of Sand and Fog by Andre Dubus which was subsequently made into a fascinating movie. We had enjoyed the book and since in both our opinions it was the sort of story that elicited a lot of emotions in the reader, we were curious to see what she thought of it. She responded by telling us that she had just started it so hadn’t quite formed opinions about it yet. The book was “assigned” reading for that month with her book club. We chatted a little longer, with us telling her a little about the plot without giving it away, and she told us a little about herself. Her name was Jessica and she lived in Santa Barbara, close to the location to which we were moving. She worked at D'Angelo Bakery near the harbor area of the city, which in addition to the working harbor is a big tourist area because of the proximity to the beach and number of hotels there. Since as visitors we had stayed in that area frequently, we were very familiar with the bakery and had often breakfasted there. The quality and selection of the bread and rolls was so delightful that we often also stopped to buy some to take home with us We then told her why we were there that day and she gave me her name and phone number and said when we moved into town I should contact her and perhaps I would be interested in joining her book club.
I had never been a member of a book club but it seemed like a pleasant way to fill time in my new place. What better way to meet people, I reasoned. Having other people select books also had some appeal because I figured that I would have exposure to books I might not read otherwise. It was a few months before we were settled into our new house but shortly after that I contacted Jessica about getting together, which we did. She told me all about the book club; it was comprised of about 12 women who met once a month in the evening at different host houses. The host would provide dinner and refreshments and would choose the book for the next time. She told me what the current book they were reading was The Thirteen Pleasures by Robert Hellenga and invited me to the next gathering to see how I liked it, and presumably, if they liked me.
I found the book at the library and when I read it found it to be intriguing, and something I probably would have overlooked if not for the book club. After finishing it I then looked for more by the same author because I had enjoyed it so much. So now I was prepared for the book club meeting the following month which would be hosted by my new friend, Jessica.
It took me only a few minutes to get to Jessica’s house from mine. Being single, she shared with a couple of roommates, male and female. The house was casual, not particularly decorated but just comfortable. Two sofas were placed around a large low square table which is where put our wine glasses and when we got our dinner, that as well. There was light conversation as members arrived, and I was introduced to each one, promptly forgetting each name of course. However a nice glass of wine and a congenial atmosphere will go a long way towards making anyone relaxed so in no time I was comfortable entering into the conversation as best I could.
The age range was 30 to 60 roughly, with most in the younger edge of the category. Professions ranged from writers to waitresses to therapists to students. All seemed very attractive, fit and interesting and interested. Some were married, some not. Some had children small or grown, some not. The core group had been meeting for a few years so knew a lot of each others history, and it showed in their conversation and ease with each other. Dinner came and was, fortuitously, vegetarian lasagna served with bread so it wasn’t necessary for me to tell anyone I did not eat meat.
After our meal we got to the book club part. It was pretty open-ended with each person giving their opinion of the book in no particular format. With one person it might be a character and another might focus on a particular detail or the setting. As I said, no real format. I found out later that there was a list or agenda of possible discussion topics that was followed by some though obviously not by all. Still it was fun and I got to know some new people so it was successful as far as I was concerned.
I went to more meetings in the next months, all following the same pattern. I got to know more of the women and hear stories about boyfriends, babies, and personal successes. We had a mini-scandal and loss when one of them, Lisa, in my opinion one of the most lovely and accomplished of the group, found that out her husband was sleeping with her best friend. Lisa was a free-lance writer and almost overnight packed up her child and moved to the Bay area where her mother lived, leaving her faithless husband in the lurch.
Each meeting was its own experience since besides different books each was held at a different house each of which, reflecting its owner, had its own individual sense of thought-out style and comfort.. Each one featured that host’s preferred menu which varied from soup to multiple appetizers to pasta, but always a glass of wine. High on the list of my favorite things is wine, bread and books, not necessarily in that order so it was an enjoyable interlude in my life.
The Christmas gathering was held at Diane’s in her small cozy house located down a winding lane near the Santa Barbara foothills. In addition to the more usual Christmas trimming, she and her daughter had decorated with dozens of candles of all types and sizes lit throughout the house, giving the rooms a magical glow. The book we discussed for that particular meeting has faded into memory but I do distinctly remember the meal we had. It was simple and colorful and amazingly delicious, consisting of tureens of bright red chunky, slightly spicy tomato soup, served alongside platters of grilled cheese sandwiches. These were not your Kraft slices on Weber’s bread from your childhood sandwiches. Nope, these were made with fabulous cheeses such as nutty gruyere, smoky provolone and tangy goat cheese, grilled on fresh chunky artisanal country bread. Scattered on the dining table were small bowls of olives of various colors and flavors. It was such a simple but elegant holiday meal that I thought about it for weeks after. I wanted to serve that sometime to my guests and have them enjoy the great flavors and contrast provided with that simplicity. I knew I could do the grilled cheese; there I was only limited by my imagination and availability of good breads and cheeses. What I couldn’t figure out was the tomato soup. What made it so good, so memorable? I asked my hostess for the recipe and with some hesitation she sent it to me via e-mail saying “this is how I made the soup for book club, I think”.
So here is the Book Club Tomato Soup, unabridged the way I make it at least once during the year, ideally during cooler weather. It makes a great winter’s night dinner, accompanied by crusty hot grilled cheese sandwiches to dip into the soup, and a flavorful glass of wine.
No one is ever disappointed by this meal.
Book Club Tomato Soup
1 yellow or sweet onion, chopped fine
1 minced garlic clove
1 tomato, chopped
6 basil leaves, torn
1 28 oz can chopped tomatoes
1 jar marinara sauce – 16 oz.
2 cups vegetable broth
½ tsp marjoram or oregano
½ cup dry white wine
salt and pepper to taste
Caramelize (or slowly cook) the onion approximately 20 minutes then add the minced garlic and sauté another minute or so
Add remaining ingredients except for fresh tomato and cook approximately 45 minutes on med heat adding a little cold water if soup seems too thick
5 minutes before serving, add fresh tomatoes, basil and salt and pepper to taste
6 -8 servings
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Fusilli with Artichokes
I was lucky enough at one point in my life to live in Santa Barbara, a city sometimes referred to as the American Riviera. We spent two years in that idyllic spot before moving back to the hustle and bustle that comprises Orange County, or as it has recently been referred to, “the OC”. While I am happy to be back, I hasten to say Santa Barbara is a place that totally lives up to its reputation. Placed on the Central California coast between the busyness of Southern California and the commerce and fashion of Northern California, it seems to incorporate the best of the two worlds, having fabulous vistas, interesting places to hike and beautiful beaches; as well as museums,several symphony groups, theatres and a world-class botanic garden just to name a few charms. There is also a multiplicity of terrific restaurants since many of the visitors and the locals are well-enough off and sophisticated enough to be able to afford and appreciate them.
While living there we had a restaurant named Ca'Dario that we loved but stopped going to at a certain point. Kind of like the comment, “It’s so popular no one goes there any more”, that kind of place. It was an Italian restaurant and we first knew about it because it was featured in one of those lovely food magazines that abound in all bookstores. They couldn't say enough nice things about it. The food was great, innovative and farmer’s market fresh. It had a lovely and reasonably priced wine list. The space was charming and close-in.
It was true, the food was great. Each time we went we agreed to that. We took visiting friends and family. All agreed, the food was great. But try as we might, we could not get past a couple of things that are our least favorite things in restaurants. For one thing the tables were very small and very close together. The place was popular and noisy, and while that might have been congenial for a bar, it was not a very relaxing way to dine. And then there was attitude. What I called attitude was a lack of desire to accommodate a guest in ways that I know other restaurants will with regard to, for example, time of reservations and seating arrangements. Now, I realize that attitude is probably something like art; you know it when you see it and not everyone sees it the same way. Nonetheless, both my husband and I saw it the same way and that was enough for us. We reluctantly stayed away from the restaurant that had a lovely menu and featured several dishes that we would often crave.
Then we moved away and as we couldn't be there with any regularity anyway, the issue went away.
Still, we loved and remembered the food. So, as any enterprising cook might do, we “hijacked” a couple of their recipes. One of the first appetizers we had tried there was asparagus, wrapped in prosciutto and grilled, served with flaked Parmesan and balsamic vinegar. Steve practiced it on us until he had the recipe just right. Eating the practice,less-than-perfect ones was not a great burden, I have to say. Now, each time he prepares it for us or guests, it provokes mouth-watering anticipation because the prosciutto is sort of like bacon and smelling bacon cooking somehow always appeals, even if you’re not a meat eater!
The other dish, and my favorite recipe from there, is a pasta which not only have I not seen in any other restaurant’s menu, I also have not seen the exact recipe in any cookbook. So, taking the listed ingredients, I made up my own version. It’s easy to make, as delicious as the original and as a bonus, I don’t have to listen to any loud stories from the next table.
Fusilli w/artichokes/leeks/shitake mushrooms
1 lb fusilli (curly short pasta)
1 pkg frozen Artichoke hearts, halved (8 oz)
3 large leeks (white and pale green parts only), thinly sliced lengthwise
½ lb shitake mushrooms, halved
3 tbsp truffle oil
½ cup shaved parmesan cheese
4 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons butter
-thaw the artichoke hearts per package directions, set aside
-start water boiling for the pasta
-heat olive oil in a medium sized skillet over medium low heat. Add leeks
and sauté until leeks are very tender, about 10 minutes, then remove leeks
from pan and set aside,
-cut the artichokes in half and sauté until browned, about 10 minutes
-add the mushrooms and sauté until fragrant, about 5 minutes
-put the leeks back into the pan, mix gently with the mushrooms and artichokes,
set aside and keep warm
-cook fusilli according to package directions, drain, then add the mushroom, leek and artichoke mixture, sprinkle with the truffle oil and toss gently to mix
Serve topped with shaved parmesan cheese and freshly ground pepper
Serves 4-6 as a main course
I was lucky enough at one point in my life to live in Santa Barbara, a city sometimes referred to as the American Riviera. We spent two years in that idyllic spot before moving back to the hustle and bustle that comprises Orange County, or as it has recently been referred to, “the OC”. While I am happy to be back, I hasten to say Santa Barbara is a place that totally lives up to its reputation. Placed on the Central California coast between the busyness of Southern California and the commerce and fashion of Northern California, it seems to incorporate the best of the two worlds, having fabulous vistas, interesting places to hike and beautiful beaches; as well as museums,several symphony groups, theatres and a world-class botanic garden just to name a few charms. There is also a multiplicity of terrific restaurants since many of the visitors and the locals are well-enough off and sophisticated enough to be able to afford and appreciate them.
While living there we had a restaurant named Ca'Dario that we loved but stopped going to at a certain point. Kind of like the comment, “It’s so popular no one goes there any more”, that kind of place. It was an Italian restaurant and we first knew about it because it was featured in one of those lovely food magazines that abound in all bookstores. They couldn't say enough nice things about it. The food was great, innovative and farmer’s market fresh. It had a lovely and reasonably priced wine list. The space was charming and close-in.
It was true, the food was great. Each time we went we agreed to that. We took visiting friends and family. All agreed, the food was great. But try as we might, we could not get past a couple of things that are our least favorite things in restaurants. For one thing the tables were very small and very close together. The place was popular and noisy, and while that might have been congenial for a bar, it was not a very relaxing way to dine. And then there was attitude. What I called attitude was a lack of desire to accommodate a guest in ways that I know other restaurants will with regard to, for example, time of reservations and seating arrangements. Now, I realize that attitude is probably something like art; you know it when you see it and not everyone sees it the same way. Nonetheless, both my husband and I saw it the same way and that was enough for us. We reluctantly stayed away from the restaurant that had a lovely menu and featured several dishes that we would often crave.
Then we moved away and as we couldn't be there with any regularity anyway, the issue went away.
Still, we loved and remembered the food. So, as any enterprising cook might do, we “hijacked” a couple of their recipes. One of the first appetizers we had tried there was asparagus, wrapped in prosciutto and grilled, served with flaked Parmesan and balsamic vinegar. Steve practiced it on us until he had the recipe just right. Eating the practice,less-than-perfect ones was not a great burden, I have to say. Now, each time he prepares it for us or guests, it provokes mouth-watering anticipation because the prosciutto is sort of like bacon and smelling bacon cooking somehow always appeals, even if you’re not a meat eater!
The other dish, and my favorite recipe from there, is a pasta which not only have I not seen in any other restaurant’s menu, I also have not seen the exact recipe in any cookbook. So, taking the listed ingredients, I made up my own version. It’s easy to make, as delicious as the original and as a bonus, I don’t have to listen to any loud stories from the next table.
Fusilli w/artichokes/leeks/shitake mushrooms
1 lb fusilli (curly short pasta)
1 pkg frozen Artichoke hearts, halved (8 oz)
3 large leeks (white and pale green parts only), thinly sliced lengthwise
½ lb shitake mushrooms, halved
3 tbsp truffle oil
½ cup shaved parmesan cheese
4 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons butter
-thaw the artichoke hearts per package directions, set aside
-start water boiling for the pasta
-heat olive oil in a medium sized skillet over medium low heat. Add leeks
and sauté until leeks are very tender, about 10 minutes, then remove leeks
from pan and set aside,
-cut the artichokes in half and sauté until browned, about 10 minutes
-add the mushrooms and sauté until fragrant, about 5 minutes
-put the leeks back into the pan, mix gently with the mushrooms and artichokes,
set aside and keep warm
-cook fusilli according to package directions, drain, then add the mushroom, leek and artichoke mixture, sprinkle with the truffle oil and toss gently to mix
Serve topped with shaved parmesan cheese and freshly ground pepper
Serves 4-6 as a main course
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Weather
January has weather. I live in Southern California so when I say weather, I mean bad weather. Good weather, what we usually have, needs no explanation. It’s just a pleasant backdrop to normal activities. So weather, in this case means fog, or rain, or just plain cold. Or, worse yet, a combination of all.
But I have learned to adapt, at least for the short term. Luckily, I like to read, which I consider nature’s natural indoor activity. And, as I get older I find myself giving in more easily to the instinct to hunker down and relax with a book, letting the weather outside do what it will.
Some books are more warming than others. Books about food, cooking or domestic stuff seem to fall within this category. Right now I am in the process of rereading Laurie Colwin’s book, More Home Cooking- a Writer Returns to the Kitchen. There is a prior volume of course, logically called Home Cooking, but I picked this one up at my used book store and it’s not like it’s a sequel or anything. I read them both some years ago but really, they never age. Not familiar with Colwin’s work, why not? She was a novelist first, with several excellent books, and then went on to compile two books made up of columns that she wrote for Gourmet Magazine about her other interest, which was food, friends and family. Sound familiar? Yes, I feel me and Laurie would have had a lot in common. She surpassed me in talent of course; and I’m not being overly modest when I say that. I speak of her in past tense because, unfortunately, she died suddenly in 1992 at the young age of 48. But by then she had already made her mark.
For those of you with more ambitions than just relaxing and enjoying the words, recipes are also included in the compilations. The one I am reading has an intriguing looking recipe for something called Wensley Cake. Those of you who like movies in addition to reading may remember one from a few years ago called Wallace and Gromit-Curse of the Were-Rabbit. Wallace is a character who loves cheese, Gromit is his erstwhile companion and Wensleydale cheese was prominently mentioned. It was my understanding that when the movie came out, the small cheese artisan in England who produces it was overwhelmed with the interest, but in a good way, presumably. So the name attracted me and I have been known to make a recipe just because I was taken by the name. Who knows, maybe Wensley cake may be next years’ holiday gift.
There are other writers of this sort that I have found inspiring or just plain fun to read. Ruth Reichl’s biographies, particularly, Tender at the Bone, and Comfort Me With Apples have a sense of place and time that is fun to visit whether you lived through that period or not. Again, the stories are about the big three F’s(food, family,friends). Ruth apparently was part of the group in the San Francisco bay area that included the now renowned Alice Waters. And of course she is well-known as the editor of Gourmet Magazine.
I devour these and other books like them in the same way I do food. There is beauty in the words they contain, the pictures they paint are a satisfying way to spend time and give me sustenance, and I am filled with a vision of the possible.
The writing inspires me and humbles me. Still, I think each of us has a unique perspective to share. And that’s what you are getting here – mine.
January has weather. I live in Southern California so when I say weather, I mean bad weather. Good weather, what we usually have, needs no explanation. It’s just a pleasant backdrop to normal activities. So weather, in this case means fog, or rain, or just plain cold. Or, worse yet, a combination of all.
But I have learned to adapt, at least for the short term. Luckily, I like to read, which I consider nature’s natural indoor activity. And, as I get older I find myself giving in more easily to the instinct to hunker down and relax with a book, letting the weather outside do what it will.
Some books are more warming than others. Books about food, cooking or domestic stuff seem to fall within this category. Right now I am in the process of rereading Laurie Colwin’s book, More Home Cooking- a Writer Returns to the Kitchen. There is a prior volume of course, logically called Home Cooking, but I picked this one up at my used book store and it’s not like it’s a sequel or anything. I read them both some years ago but really, they never age. Not familiar with Colwin’s work, why not? She was a novelist first, with several excellent books, and then went on to compile two books made up of columns that she wrote for Gourmet Magazine about her other interest, which was food, friends and family. Sound familiar? Yes, I feel me and Laurie would have had a lot in common. She surpassed me in talent of course; and I’m not being overly modest when I say that. I speak of her in past tense because, unfortunately, she died suddenly in 1992 at the young age of 48. But by then she had already made her mark.
For those of you with more ambitions than just relaxing and enjoying the words, recipes are also included in the compilations. The one I am reading has an intriguing looking recipe for something called Wensley Cake. Those of you who like movies in addition to reading may remember one from a few years ago called Wallace and Gromit-Curse of the Were-Rabbit. Wallace is a character who loves cheese, Gromit is his erstwhile companion and Wensleydale cheese was prominently mentioned. It was my understanding that when the movie came out, the small cheese artisan in England who produces it was overwhelmed with the interest, but in a good way, presumably. So the name attracted me and I have been known to make a recipe just because I was taken by the name. Who knows, maybe Wensley cake may be next years’ holiday gift.
There are other writers of this sort that I have found inspiring or just plain fun to read. Ruth Reichl’s biographies, particularly, Tender at the Bone, and Comfort Me With Apples have a sense of place and time that is fun to visit whether you lived through that period or not. Again, the stories are about the big three F’s(food, family,friends). Ruth apparently was part of the group in the San Francisco bay area that included the now renowned Alice Waters. And of course she is well-known as the editor of Gourmet Magazine.
I devour these and other books like them in the same way I do food. There is beauty in the words they contain, the pictures they paint are a satisfying way to spend time and give me sustenance, and I am filled with a vision of the possible.
The writing inspires me and humbles me. Still, I think each of us has a unique perspective to share. And that’s what you are getting here – mine.
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